This Is For Keeps
by MomentarySetback
Summary: Post-ep for 7x19 Target Specific. For the first time she didn’t mind the notion of belonging somewhere, belonging with someone.


**Author's Note: **Post-ep for 7x19. A few lines for a fic popped into my head for a fic after watching Target Specific, with Eric all jealous about the photo of Calleigh with the horse trainer. After months and months and months, those lines finally morphed into an actual fic. Better late than never, I guess. Warning: it's short and fluffy, but I hope you like it.

* * *

They had already settled into the too-big chair, glasses of red wine in hand, when tension again pervaded their usual comfortable silence. Unlike earlier, however, this tension was not the result of accusatory glances and loaded words that made the pit of her stomach tighten with anxiety.

No, this tension was lighter. Much lighter. Her reassuring, secretive smile – the one she reserved just for him – had quelled not only his worry but also most of his suspicions. For a fleeting moment he'd found that smile condescending; he'd quickly realized, however, that she found his accusations silly because he was so consumed by jealousy he had yet to consider how out of character a random hook-up would be for her.

And the soft way she'd defined time as "before you and me" made his heart skip a few beats as it soared. "You and me." They were a thing, an entity, and if the endearing, feminine way those words left her lips had any weight on how she felt about them – and he knew it did – then he had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Still, she felt his eyes on her, adoring yet possessive. She lay on her back, he on his side, her shoulder tucked against his chest, their legs intertwined as always. From there he admired her profile – the curve of her nose, the dip between her lips, the faint laugh lines that appeared, accompanying a soft blush, when she realized just how intently he was studying her.

His gaze made the corners of her lips curve upward until a playful, amused smirk was highlighting her features. And as his free hand softly careened down her arm, fingertips slipping beneath her white blouse possessively yet delicately to dance over her belly, she knew that if he could politely, _respectfully_ brand her as his somehow, he so would.

Then the only logical notion – a ring – popped into her mind and, remembering the words in his file, she took a much-needed long, slow drag of wine. Not entirely because it scared her, but just because it could be a reality in the near future knowing Eric – and she knew him all too well.

"So," Eric began, and he anxiously drew invisible lines over her creamy skin with the tips of his fingers. "This Tyler, Terry…whatever guy." He rolled his eyes a little, uncharacteristically flustered, and then set his sights on her with a look that told her he _absolutely_ remembered the name Terrence.

Laughter bubbled in her throat and she had to tilt her wine glass away from her lips as soft laughs escaped her. "You are _so _jealous."

Her eyes were alight with playful amusement. This was so not the Eric Delko she knew, and yet it was in a way. This was the Eric who'd morphed from a player into a man who had eyes for only her, a man who left her chocolates and cute little notes inside ballistics evidence boxes.

"I'm not jealous," he insisted, though the hints of a smirk tugged at his own lips. His fingers stilled and he pressed a palm to her abdomen, remaining there for a tantalizingly long time, his warmth spreading throughout her, their eyes locked. "I'm just…curious."

"Mmm," she let out appreciatively. This was just adorable. Grinning, she shifted against the cushions, resting only slightly more on her side to face him. His hand ceased to follow; he simply let it graze her soft skin as she moved and then his fingers curved around her hip.

With a hand on either side of the broad wine glass, she took a sip. She suddenly felt very warm, though she suspected that had less to do with the wine and more to do with his touch.

"Terrence," she began, watching the adorable flash of jealousy in his eyes with a sympathetic but amused smile. "He asked me to go horseback riding."

"And?" His fingers zipped over her abdomen again, barely touching. The motion almost tickled.

Calleigh set her wine glass on the table and shrugged. Terrence seemed rather insignificant to her. She'd actually forgotten about him until today, but Eric seemed rather bothered by that photo.

"And we went horseback riding," she continued. "We talked about horses, groomed them and put them back, he told me he'd love to take me out, said to call if I was interested. He left the ball in my court and that was that." She shrugged again, smiling reassuringly.

"And you never…"

"No, I wasn't really interested," she said honestly. He trusted her implicitly, so that was enough. "Besides," she added, a more playful smile pulling at the corners of her lips as she absentmindedly toyed with the hem of his shirt. "The next day I found a certain box of truffles sitting on my desk."

He grinned at that, and drew his knuckles over her skin up to her ribs, splaying his fingers along her side. Amazed again that his hands covered so much of her small frame at once, his eyes lingered on her skin before sliding up her body to meet her gaze. "Oh?"

"Mmhmm," she let out, playing coy for a moment as her eyes sparkled. "And then I had everything I ever wanted," she continued, and he knew just how monumental it was for such a declaration to leave her lips, to even enter her _thoughts._ "So why would I need my horse trainer friend?"

Smiling, both at her declaration and at his accusatory phrasing, he leaned in, his hand sliding to the center of her back as he brushed his lips against hers. It was meant to be quick and appreciative, but when her hand slipped beneath the hem of his button up and her fingers grazed his taut muscles, he found himself pulling her closer. The inches between them now nonexistent, their mouths melded together as she parted her lips for him. She wrapped a leg further around one of his, bringing herself impossibly closer to his warm, firm body. Sighing against his mouth at the comfort of the now familiar fit, she relaxed under his ministrations.

A month and a half they'd been doing this, and she was certain it would never get old. She loved his touch, familiar yet exciting, possessive yet respectful, firm yet gentle. She loved his kisses, loved that sometimes he pinned her down and pressed his mouth against hers firmly, waging a war of lips and teeth and tongue. And other times he kissed the corner of her mouth and took her bottom lip softly between his, cradling her in his arms all the while. She loved it all.

And so did he. Seeking the taste of her skin, he broke away to press his lips to her neck, faint traces of her chamomile shampoo and something distinctly Calleigh greeting his senses. He brushed his fingers through her hair, moving it aside to kiss the sensitive spot just beneath her ear and receiving the anticipated sigh of pleasure.

Moving down, his lips brushed over her pulse point and the hollow her collarbone created. He paused at her shoulder, lips against her skin as he mumbled, "Bet your horse trainer friend didn't get to do this."

His hand glided back to her stomach, feeling her laughter as much as he heard it next to his ear. Pressing a hand to his shoulder, she urged him back, taking in the playful jealousy in his eyes. His irrational insecurity earlier had been adorable, but this was certainly more fun.

She tilted her head slightly against the cushion, hair now thoroughly mussed, and it was so unlike the Calleigh he knew from work that he wanted to pin her down right here, right now, and send her into further disarray.

"You're awfully cute when you're jealous," she noted, casually sliding the bottom button of his shirt out of its hole. "And no, he didn't. Not even close."

"Oh, I am so not jealous now," he assured, raising a brow as he grinned. "I think I am feeling very, very favorable toward this situation now."

"Okay, now you're just smug," she decided. She pushed up, teasingly leaving him to bask in his own cockiness.

She didn't get far, however, before he tugged her hand and brought her back to him, assisting her in a gentle fall against his body. Eric held her close, fingers dancing up and down her spine through her blouse as their eyes met.

"I'm a little smug," he admitted, though there was more in his eyes. He tucked a lock of long blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers continuing down to caress her jaw. "But really, Cal, I'm just…happy we're finally together."

She smiled, albeit not quite unabashedly; she still wasn't used to this – all the coddling and affection and openness. But with Eric it was easy.

"I'm glad you're…" he continued and then trailed off, chuckling as he realized he should rephrase. This was _Calleigh_, after all; he supposed she had never liked the idea of belonging to anyone, and her 9mm LadySmith was sitting precariously close on the coffee table. He ran a hand over his buzzed hair, smiling at her expectant expression. "I'm glad I'm yours."

Calleigh smiled, both at his words and because he knew her too well. She pulled him against her, cradling the back of his head in her hands, and smiled into the crook of his neck.

"I'm glad you're mine, too," she said softly, her voice filled with both awe and a bit of the smugness she'd chastised him for displaying when the roles had been reversed. She was struck by the sudden sense of belonging – him to her, her to him. It wasn't a feeling of overbearing ownership like she'd expected, but a simple, respectful understanding. For the first time she didn't mind the notion of belonging somewhere, belonging with someone. It was hard to deny with a fit so perfect – their bodies joined like a puzzle, her forehead on his shoulder, his arms around her, his heart in her hands.

Ever so slowly, he tilted his head, lips eventually finding the corner of her mouth. She kissed back, lips melding in a soft press and then slide as she maneuvered a leg around his body to straddle him.

Holding her waist, he sighed as her tongue grazed his bottom lip, their kisses becoming more urgent though no less loving. After a moment she pulled away, face flushed, lips parted, with his taste lingering on her lips. Smiling, she rested her forehead against his temple, her palms brushing against his stubble as she cradled his face in her hands.

"I am, you know," she assured, but he didn't. Her thumb caressed his jaw and she watched as his brows furrowed, his hands absentmindedly rubbing her sides.

"What?" he asked. His eyes were already a deep, desire-laden shade of brown and she looked into them, smiling softly.

"Yours," she whispered, and he barely even had time to grin before he drew her lips back to his.


End file.
